


Cycle

by pinstripesuit



Category: Looper (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripesuit/pseuds/pinstripesuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abe travels back in time. Kid Blue tries to travel forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cycle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [templeandarche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeandarche/gifts).



The higher-ups let him pack a few items, things he has become fond of since relocating to China: music files, a bottle of good huangjiu (vintage ‘54), some clothes, a gun, whatever he can fit into one suitcase. He’s given a stack of gold bars to get started, and jokes that if it’s the most important job that no one wants to do, he’s the perfect man for it.

“Don’t shoot yourself in the foot. Again,” is the last thing he hears before the machine’s circular door closes and everything turns into burning light.

\---

Abe finds the kid much like all the others, from the multitude of abandoned children hidden out in the open in the city. They’re easy to bring on, eager to do anything for some cash and the chance to live like the movies they love, to be respected and feared. And there are plenty of extras around in case a job goes sour.

He hears about this one boy in particular, caught snooping around the alley behind the La Belle Aurore, where some of the Gat Men hang out and watch the girls come in for their shifts. He asks the Gat Men to bring him into his office rather than shoo him off.

Abe watches the kid for a long, silent moment. He looks around fifteen, sitting stock straight in the chair, with that undernourished, cocky air about him all the street kids have. His wide blue eyes dart up from the hammer on the desk and lock onto Abe’s.

“What were you doing back there, boy?”

When the kid doesn’t answer, the Gat Man steps closer to the his chair.

“Well?”

“...I want a gun like that,” the kid blurts out, glancing at the Gat Man.

Abe raises an eyebrow, then laughs heartily. “Yeah, we could use him.”

\---

“So I’m gonna put you up at one of our places, a pawn shop, keeping an eye on things. You let the Gat Men know if you see anyone suspicious,” Abe explains.

The kid nods.

“You listen to them, go where they tell you. You got it, boy?”

The kid nods again.

“Good boy. Oh — another thing,” Abe adds, reaching into a desk drawer. “Hold out your hand.”

The kid goes still, his eyes flicking to the hammer peeking out from under a sheaf of papers, heavy enough to break a bone.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Abe chuckles softly. The kid slowly stretches out his skinny arm, and a thick band of dark, soft leather encloses his wrist. His eyes widen as he pulls his arm back, blinking in wonder at the neat face of the watch, the minute hand steadily ticking.

“Make sure you get there at seven tomorrow morning, okay?” Abe asks, sitting back.

The kid jerks his face up, a smile breaking across it. “Y-yes, sir!”

Abe smiles. “You do a good job.”

“I promise!”

“By the way, what’s your name?”

"...Kid Blue."

“Kid Blue?” Abe raises a thick eyebrow. “Ain’t that a movie from... way, _way_ before you were born?”

“You ever see it?” Kid asks.

“Decades ago,” Abe replies. “I’m more of a Clint Eastwood fan myself. Even see _Fistful of Dollars_?”

Kid shakes his head. 

“Mmm, it’s a good one. Where do you see movies anyway?”

Kid shrugs. “There’s always a TV around somewhere. They find old discs and tapes in the dump.”

“And you try to get all the cowboy movies, right?”

Kid nods, smiling brightly at him.

“What's your _real_ name, boy?” Abe requests.

Kid pouts. “It ain’t a nickname.”

Abe is the only person who knows Kid’s real name. Kid never knows this.

\---

Most of the boys quickly get over the shock of finding out that Abe is from the future. Some don’t believe him but go along with it because they can thank Abe for their new car or shiny shoes or high-rise. Some of them ask questions like he’s an oracle, and Abe is sometimes in the mood to entertain them.

Half of what he says is true, and half is bullshit. It amuses him to see what they’ll believe.

He admits to Kid that the fashion for illuminated clothing isn’t true; he just saw it in an old movie (but to keep that a secret). The bit about Florida sinking into the ocean, though — that is.

\---

Kid Blue is told when he starts training that the job isn’t as glamorous as it seems. Sure, they have stylish long coats and shiny huge guns, and a lot of the Gat Men spend their generous pay on cars, women and other vices. But it’s mostly the daily grind keeping the Loopers in line, making sure they show up for their shifts, and taking care of the ones who can’t handle the job — All the things Abe doesn’t want to bother with.

Kid Blue asks right away to learn gun-spinning tricks.

\---

Kid doesn’t think much of Joe when the Gat Men drag the boy into Abe’s office. It’s not uncommon for them to catch street kids stealing from their fronts. Usually, the kids leave Abe’s office minus a finger or nose, but Abe is with this boy for a long while. Kid laughs when he hears that Abe’s going to make Joe a Looper. The blunderbuss is as big as he is and about twice the weight. Kid doesn’t know what Abe can see in the skinny little street rat.

Joe will probably burn up like the rest of them, disappearing to different corners of the globe after they get their gold. Kid knows that Abe really only cares about the Gat Men, in the end. The Loopers he’s just humoring because they’re useful to a point, eager to spend their silver on the clubs and shops and drugs Abe has his fingers in. Loopers don’t stick around, they don’t have a legacy, they’re nothing special.

Abe lets Joe keep the piece he stole from the watch shop.

\---

Kid asks Abe where he’s from. Abe answers with a vague “flyover states, nothing special” and waves off any attempts at follow-up questions. So instead they talk about clothes, cars and the working girls in the club.

“Why Shanghai then?” Kid asks later on, after hearing the same erhu tune play over the stereo for the fifth time.

“You’ll figure that out in ten years, if you’re smart,” Abe replies, smirking. “I will tell you, though, the food’s a lot better.”

\---

Abe smiles faintly as he reads the elaborate monogram “KB” wrapping around the leather holster. Kid had it made weeks ago, and now he finally gets to gun that goes into it.

“Kinda obvious,” Kid replies, grinning, palm still curled around the grip, feeling the solid weight of his — _his_ — Gat. The black coat is still a bit big on him, but he’ll grow into it in no time.

Abe chuckles. “You boys romanticize the past too much. Like with your movies. Everything’s in the future.”

“And you said the future wasn’t that great, unless you got the cash,” Kid replies.

“The past ain’t that great either. Take it from an old man with too much experience, and the bad fortune to have to relive it,” Abe explains, downing the rest of his drink.

\---

It doesn’t take much time to for new Loopers to get the hang of their trade, how to hold a blunderbuss and fire at the general area of the target. Loopers are hired more for their ability to follow orders and not ask questions than for their finesse at shooting. Still, there are a few things to be learned.

Kid, perched on the back of the pickup, watches Joe fire the blunderbuss at a tree stump, the noise cracking across the wheatfield. He smirks when Joe cries out at the sharp kick-back from the shot.

“Just widen your stance,” say Reese, a ten-year veteran of the business, as he demonstrates. “It’ll get easier when you grow a bit more, too.”

“And don’t hold the blunderbuss like your dick,” Kid teases, twirling his Gat on his index finger.

“Grip the barrel tighter,” Reese explains, frowning at Kid.

Joe nods and takes his stance again, pulls the trigger and only barely flinches when the shot takes out half of the tree stump.

\---

Abe never leaves the club, rarely steps out of his office. He says he doesn’t want to get into any tricky paradox business, but the truth is that he has no need for anything outside.

“What’s it like?” Kid ventures to ask him one day, after the other Gat Men leave. “You know, being around now?”

“It’s like having to rewatch a really boring movie,” he explains. “Or a disappointing ball game. You’d rather just stick to the skybox with the good alcohol and _hors d’oeuvres_ and wait for someone else to tell you the score.”

Kid smirks. “Does it hurt? Time travel?”

Abe chuckles roughly. “It’s kind of like jet lag, _extreme_ jet lag. Not that you’ve ever been on a plane... You know how it came about?” 

Kid shakes his head. 

“‘Course you wouldn’t. So what happened was — you won’t believe this — it was Quebec and the Chinese working together. Most unlikely partnership of the century, I know. Though there’s an urban legend that some guys in Texas got to it first, decades earlier.” Abe gets up to the counter pour himself a drink. “Anyway, it worked, amazingly. The United Nations immediately put a kibosh on the whole thing, rounded up all the research and scientists, but the mob got their hands on the machines.”

“Wow...” Kid takes the glass Abe offers him.

“That’s why they’re shit,” Abe continues, settling back down. “The machines. You can’t calibrate them or anything. They don’t know how. If they could just... I don’t know, drop the guys in the middle of the ocean, it’d make my job a hell of a lot easier.”

“I love this job,” Kid points out.

Abe smiles approvingly. Kid takes a sip of the whiskey and wonders how Abe knew exactly how he liked it.

\---

“How long will I have the limp?”

“The Doc’s better at cutting things off, not really fixing them up,” Abe says, sitting down heavily in his chair, grumbling like he can’t bear being on his feet. “Don’t worry, in ten years they’ll be able to make it like new. Prosthetics and whatnot. Those fancy boots of yours won’t help much, though.”

Kid sniffles quietly from his chair.

“Well, when you can stand again, I’m gonna put you up with Jesse. Listen to him,” Abe continues.

“What? Come on! I had five of my own guys!”

“And look how that turned out. They gonna carry you around while you give orders?”

“It won’t happen again, I promise! Just give me another chance, please...”

“To shoot off your other foot? To lose another shipment?” Abe asks, glowering at him, and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ ‘Kid Blue...’”

“Abe...” Kid pleads.

“With the gun _I gave you..._ ”

Kid hangs his head to hide his red face.

“Go on. Get out of here. Go see Jesse when you’re better.”

\---

“Hell, no solar panels? It runs _all_ on gas?” When Joe nods, Seth whistles in wonder, lightly gliding his fingers over the shining hood of the Miata. “Goddamn, where did you even find it?”

Joe chuckles. “You have to pay up to even know that secret.”

“Must cost a fortune to run,” Seth murmurs.

“That’s why it’s only for special occasions,” Joe replies, turning when he hears a familiar and unwelcome clicking on the asphalt.

“What’s this?” Kid asks, marching through the Belle’s parking lot.

“Joe’s new ride,” Seth points out, looking like he’s itching to get into the passenger seat.

Kid stops and hooks his fingers into his belt, surveying the vehicle. “A _chick_ car, Frenchie?” he asks, smirking. “You’re really pussing out.”

“Hey, Suzie likes hearing my French, Little Boy Blue.” Joe smirks at him, the insufferable little shit.

Kid’s jaw clenches and the end of his Gat is suddenly pointed between Joe’s eyes.

“...Cut it out, Kid,” Joe says, trying to be casual but Kid smirks at the white of his knuckles around the steering wheel. “Mr. Kid.”

“I just like to see you sweat,” Kid hisses, but pulls the gun away. 

Joe rolls his eyes at Kid’s hand curling over the top of the door, getting prints on the wax job. “If you shoot, you’re paying for the clean-up on the seats.” He pushes past Kid as he gets out of the car, leaving him behind as they disappear into the pulsing light of the club.

\---

_“I wanted you to say I did good, that’s all I wanted. This is all I have...”_

Abe’s doled out worse punishments for more trivial offenses. Hell, this is leg or arm amputation territory. Kid wonders why he got off so easy as he curls up in the alley outside, watching his hand start to swell atop the watch around his wrist.

Inside, Abe winces as he cracks his knuckles, pushing aside Kid’s last words and gets back to the search.

\---

He knows exactly why he’s picked to be sent back: He’s a fuck-up, and the mob wants him out of the way. They say that he should be thankful for the opportunity, being entrusted with the very important task of preventing paradoxes and keeping future law enforcement off the mob’s back, but everyone knows the job is the equivalent of a prison sentence.

“If you run into me back then, tell me to keep away from that dancer.” They crack jokes about him being able to make a mint on sports betting or the stock market, avoiding the mistaken fashions and fads of the past. 

He lands in a wheat field ten miles out from Topeka. The buildings in the distance cut into the clear sky (none of the smog that plagued Shanghai when he left), new and familiar at once. He picks up his map and suitcase and marches forward.

**Author's Note:**

>  _“I wanted you to say I did good, that’s all I wanted. This is all I have...”_ is taken from the [ original movie script](http://loopermovie.tumblr.com/post/37462232140/our-screenplay), released by Rian Johnson 12/8/12.


End file.
